


Brass Knuckles and Funerals

by molly16



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, I don't even remember when I started writing this, fix it fic for that disaster of a season finale, idk who thought that THAT was a good idea but it was not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molly16/pseuds/molly16
Summary: Because that season finale was horrendous and I much prefer happy endings, have a fix it fic (way after the episode aired, but it's fine, everything's fine.)
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Brass Knuckles and Funerals

**Author's Note:**

> This has been way too long in the making, I didn't know how to finish it for the longest time, but I slapped something on the end of it and it's here.

It’s a blur. All of it. From the smoke and the sirens and seeing Logan lying in the street motionless, seeing his arm definitely not on his body. The way the paramedics and firefighters flew past her, one of them pulling her off of her husband.

Her husband. Newlyweds. They had finally gotten their happy ending and here they were--glass sticking out of Veronica’s feet, legs and arms and Logan half dead on the road, his arm at least a foot away. An argument about time zones, of all things, that’s why Logan didn’t open the car door, that’s why he was walking away from the car when the bomb went off. 

The paramedics quickly get Logan into an ambulance, the firefighters hook up to the fire hydrant Veronica’s gotten a few tickets for parking in front of, and more paramedics come towards her to get her into an ambulance. Veronica doesn’t even have half an ounce of fight in her to resist the help getting onto the stretcher, is too dazed and can’t hear well enough to answer the simple questions she’s being asked. The siren turns on, adding more to the ringing in her ears, and she can feel herself flying through the traffic.

How many times she’s driven this exact route at half the speed, usually getting stuck at half the red lights. Her car. Her car and her parking it on the street is the reason Logan went out. If she had just parked it a little further, he wouldn’t have had to move it for the street cleaner and neither one of them would be getting rushed to the hospital. 

Halfway through getting stitched up, Keith arrives in the emergency room, probably after getting a call from one of Veronica’s neighbors. There’s very little space left on Veronica where there aren’t cuts, scrapes, stitches, or glass, so all Keith can do is just rub his thumb in circles on the back of Veronica’s hand and hope that it helps in even the smallest way. 

It’s been hours and there’s been very little news about Logan. Veronica was only told that Logan was in surgery, and that it’s going to be a difficult one. That’s all she got. Slowly, but surely, the surgical waiting room starts to fill up with almost the entire population of Neptune, but Veronica is still in an emergency department room, still being watched until some unknown point when they’ll let her go. She’s mostly thankful for that, she’s able to just be with her dad and not have to act like everything’s better than it is because it’s not. The entire situation is shit and proof that people like her and Logan don’t get a happy ending. It’s proof that no matter how hard you try, how many good people are in your life, that things don’t get better or easier. 

The next thing Veronica can focus on is a doctor coming in the room, and Veronica scrambles to read every single detail of her face to prepare herself for whatever the doctor is about to say. “Logan’s out of surgery,” The doctor begins, standing at the foot of Veronica’s bed, “But there is some bad news. He lost his right arm up to his shoulder and we did have to place him into a medically induced coma to give his body a chance to heal.” Veronica’s brain is officially at capacity. The doctor asks, “Veronica, do you understand all of this?”

The words barely come out, “How long?” 

“We don’t know. We’re hopeful for less than a month, but it all depends on him.” There’s so much uncertainty in the doctor’s voice that it shocks Veronica. Aren’t doctors supposed to know everything? Aren’t they supposed to have all the answers? “I can have a nurse take you to his room, if you would like to see him.”

“Yes. Please.” 

It’s more painful than she expected, to see someone that had always been so strong and seemed so big in a hospital bed that seems to shrink him. It isn’t until her hand is on top of his and the nurse places a box of tissues on the table next to her that she realizes that this is actually happening, that it isn’t some twisted nightmare that she’s going to wake up from and have Logan next to her to hold onto and remind her that it was just a bad dream. This is real life. For the next at least month of her life, this is how her husband is going to be--unresponsive, with tubes and wires everywhere. 

Two months later, she’s in the middle of brushing her teeth when the words she’s been waiting two months--two excruciating months--are finally told to her. He’s awake, still a little groggy, but awake and coherent, and he was asking where she was. He remembers her, and knowing that, knowing that they can pick up where they left off and that she won’t be a stranger to him is a miracle. It’s finally time go on that honeymoon and do what should have been done two months ago.


End file.
